


The Leak

by SomeCoolName



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Anal Sex, Assassins & Hitmen, Canon Disabled Character, Condoms, Consensual Sex, Death Threats, Erik is not a Happy Bunny, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeCoolName/pseuds/SomeCoolName
Summary: Erik Lehnsherr has two lives. During the day, he's a clerk living in New York. He's a normal guy who doesn't particularly like his job and who doesn't have many friends. At night, things are a bit more complicated: he's a hitman, in deep need of money. One day, he's contacted to kill one Charles Xavier, a teacher and writer who is about to publish a book about Mutants, which could be dangerous for their community. Plus, the job is very well paid, so Erik has two reasons to accept it.And then Erik meets Charles. Of course, things don't go as planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadoralive0013](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadoralive0013/gifts).
  * Translation into Français available: [La Fuite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774430) by [Nalou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalou/pseuds/Nalou), [SomeCoolName](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeCoolName/pseuds/SomeCoolName)



> Hi everyone!
> 
> Here's my answer to a prompt from my lovely beta deadoralive0013 who wanted an AU, with Erik being an assassin and Charles being his target.  
> Please be sure you read the tags before you start to read. It DOES have a happy ending but the story mentions some pretty sad stuff too (cancer, suicidal thoughts...).
> 
> I couldn't say this enough: please write a comment if you liked the story. Kudos and bookmarks are so very nice but comments are utterly SO motivating. They fill my heart and soul with an indefinable joy and the feeling to write and publish more and more.
> 
> Meanwhile, enjoy your reading :)
> 
> Beta'd by my friend deadoralive0013
> 
> Translated to chinese by the wonderful kazuyummy: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10971417 !

Erik turns around just in time to see Christopher Loyd screaming  “ _ One point twenty-one gigawatts! _ ” and smiles before he focuses again on the carrot he’s slicing. There are a lot of people who complain about having to live in small spaces, but Erik doesn’t mind. From where he stands, he can see his (only) kitchen counter, the telly, and the corner of his bed in the other room. It is a tiny flat, not to mention Erik is tall, but it’s okay. Erik never complains actually.

 

He pours olive oil, salt and ginger in his home-made salad and sits on his bed to watch  _ Back to the Future _ . He heard colleagues talk about it at lunch time. He didn’t participate in the conversation, of course, but it made him want to see the movie again. He knows it by heart and it’s even more pleasant to reel off the dialogues.

 

He eats even if he’s not really hungry - because he’s never hungry when he’s back from the hospital - and checks his phone by reflex, not really expecting anything new. It’s a bit too late to receive news from someone anyway. Not that he receives texts or calls during daytime either. When the movie ends, he stands up to clean his empty plate in the small sink and slides under his bedcovers, he’s ready to turn the light off when his phone vibrates. No, not the phone on his bedside table.  _ The other phone _ . 

 

He feels it despite the distance, because he trained himself hard enough to recognize when the  _ other _ phone vibrates, even when it’s locked away in the safe behind Erik’s clothes in his cupboard. He doesn’t want to see the  _ other _ phone all the time, but he needs to know when someone contacts him. And someone just did. He extends his hand and focuses on opening the safe with his powers, before he drags the phone up to his hand. An email. Erik breathes in and opens it.

 

> leomccarey@stalle.com  
>  01:24 AM
> 
> Available?

 

It almost always starts like this. A simple email, harmless really, just to check if he’s free (or still alive, actually). People don’t write too much at first, they’re like kids testing the water with their toes before they decide to jump right into it. And Erik does feel like he’s some kind of lake when it happens; he’s steady, calm, inoffensive. Until there’s a storm and people get swallowed under the thick waves he launches. It takes him a bit more than twenty minutes before he answers.

 

> obersee@faber.com  
>  01:46 AM
> 
> I need a file.

 

He closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation of his hand on his chest, rising, falling. Again.  _ Again _ . There’s no answer. Erik falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

There’s one thing Erik hates more than the coffee machine at work: it’s work itself. It’s a good company, they’re specialized in windmills and renewable energy, which is something that Erik prefers, but he thought it would be nicer if he was something more than a simple clerk. His boss knows about his mutation, the man is a mutant himself (Erik would have  _ never _ accepted to work under a human’s supervision), but in the United States, you can’t get anywhere if you don’t have a degree. Too bad Erik stopped attending university three months before getting his diploma, but it’s not like he had a choice anyway. So, meanwhile, he books the travel tickets for the engineers who need to go across the country to inspect the lands where they’re going to build the windmills. Plus, when she doesn’t have too much work, he talks with Emma Frost, one of the engineers. Emma is nice.

 

When he’s back home and he comes out of the shower, the other phone that he kept in his pocket all day long, rings in the bathroom counter. Erik is drying himself up with a towel so he uses his powers to lift the phone up to his eyes to look at the email he received.

 

> leomccarey@stalle.com  
>  10:40 PM
> 
> Charles Xavier - 28 years old - Professor and writer.  
>  Address: Tribeca, New York.

 

Erik stops drying himself up and stares at the phone. That’s  _ all _ ? He snarls and shakes his head, this Leo McCarey (that’s not his real name, of course, but Erik doesn’t need to know otherwise) must think Erik will just take a job for without enough information about a mark, well, that’s not how he works. Maybe this Xavier is famous for his misdeeds, so Erik ends up naked in his bed, googling Charles Xavier’s name to find something that would help him make his mind. There are a few pictures of the man (small guy with blue eyes like he’s  _ Bambi  _ or something), there are also articles about his work at Columbia (he teaches genetics) and that’s absolutely it. Well, there are the articles about the high-society gathering to which Charles attempts but that’s not interesting. All he finds out are what he already knows: his potential new mark is a professor, writer, and dabbles with high society in New York. Nothing tells him what he  _ really _ needs to know. Erik prefers to sleep first, before he sends back in the morning:

 

> obersee@faber.com  
>  07:03 AM
> 
> I won’t do it.
> 
>  
> 
> leomccarey@stalle.com  
>  07:05 PM
> 
> Why?

 

For Christ’s sake, is the man glued to his phone? Erik sighs and doesn’t answer. He turns off his phone and puts it back in the safe. End of the story.

* * *

  
  


They don’t organize much parties at the office but when they do, there’s so much alcohol that the administration pays for taxis and paracetamol for the hungover. Erik is sitting in one of the couches, drinking his gin and tonic, watching at the only people in the world who dare to dance in front of other human beings:  _ women _ . There’s Emma among them and even if it’s thanks to her that the office can spend so much for tonight’s party (because of the work she did in Dakota a few weeks ago), she acts like everything is perfectly normal and that she’s not the Queen of the party. At least, she notices that Erik is staring at her because she stops dancing and comes to sit next to him. Their knees brush.

 

“I was serious, you know,” she whispers in his ear.

 

“I know. But I still don’t have a degree.”

 

“That’s the tricky part, but that’s why you need me to convince Azazel that this part doesn’t mean anything and that you can totally apply to be an engineer yourself.”

 

Erik frowns and smiles at the same time, looking at her, their lips maybe a bit too close.

 

“Oh, that’s right, you told me you’re a telepath?”

 

She laughs and shakes her head, “Yes, but I won’t use my powers on Azazel. He’d notice right away and I don’t want to get fired. I’m just suggesting a nice lunch with the three of us, so you can tell him about your training in Berlin, that you almost graduated but that you had to leave Germany for personal reasons – that I’d still like to hear about, even if you’re acting all mysterious about it. This, combined with your mutation, I’m sure you’re as capable as we are to conceive windmills.”

 

_ Maybe a bit more capable than all of you combined _ , Erik thinks. Luckily, she doesn’t hear him.

 

“Plus, the money is good.”

 

_ Money _ . Erik nods.

 

“Alright. Settle this,” he says and when she smiles, it’s like she’s saying  _ Kiss me _ . Erik could. Erik would. But Erik doesn’t. He gently taps her knee and stands up. 

 

When he’s home, he’s drunk and alone and that combination becomes a bit too much to take. Still not a single notification on his phone. Well, he opens the safe and turns on the other phone without really knowing why.

 

> leomccarey@stalle.com  
>  11:39 PM
> 
> Charles Xavier is a mutant. He’s writing a book that is about to be published. The book lists all the different mutations he studied and/or met in his life. It’s a book he is writing for the Humans. He says it’s a way to show them Mutants want to come clean, to reveal them everything we are so the Humans won’t fear us anymore. What do you think about it?

 

Suddenly, Erik is not that drunk anymore.

 

> obersee@faber.com  
>  00:42 AM
> 
> I think it’s fucking messed up. And dangerous.

 

> leomccarey@stalle.com  
>  00:44 AM
> 
> Will you take care of that matter, then? I can pay you. A lot.

 

Erik reads the last email, over and over. Last call. He has to make up his mind.

 

> obersee@faber.com  
>  00:50 AM
> 
> Consider it done.

 

* * *

Every day of the week that follows, Erik walks in front of Xavier’s building. He observes the people who are coming in and out of it. He mentally notes at what time, with whom, carrying what. He never sees Xavier himself but he knows the man is working this week so that means he must be there.

 

One day, Emma tells him she planned the lunch with their boss Azazel and the both of them. She’s pretty excited and Erik starts to be too. Then on a Tuesday, they all go to an Italian place and Emma starts to talk about Erik’s training but Azazel laughs and says it’s  _ cute _ but if he wants to hire a  _ real _ engineer, he just has to check one of the hundred resume he receives everyday. Emma tries to argue. Azazel laughs even more. Erik doesn’t kill him, so in the end, the lunch is okay.

 

* * *

 

Erik didn’t go to the hospital tonight. He went yesterday, but he never goes to see her at the same day he has a job to do.

 

He’s standing in front of Xavier’s building since two hours now, checking, waiting. He’ll go inside around midnight, so he’ll come across less neighbors. He’s wearing blue overalls and he stole a truck of the gas company to consolidate his cover.  _ Leo McCarey  _ insisted it has to look like an accident. Of course, Erik knows his job. He checks his bag one more time when the front door opens; Charles Xavier is going out. Erik saw so many pictures of him that it’s impossible to mistake him for someone else. Brown locks all over his juvenile face and blue-Bambi-eyes. It’s nearly midnight and the man is going out. Probably partying. Once he disappears in a subway entrance, Erik gets out of his truck. He enters, thanks to the code he saw the other occupants of the building punch in, and takes the elevator to reach the seventh floor. He keeps his bag close to his body and uses his powers to unlock Xavier’s door. Well, he knew the man is rich but he never would have guessed he was  _ this _ rich. 

 

The living-room is so big, Erik mistakes it for the whole flat for a few seconds. There’s a grand piano made of wood on his left and a long dining-table with (Erik has to count)  _ fourteen _ chairs around it. He walks on a gigantic red and blue Persian carpet until he reaches another part of the flat, separated with hand-crafted metallic pillars. It’s a second living-room, a more cosy one, with white sofas and a modern black chimney. And of fucking course, there’s a terrace. Erik climbs the three steps and opens the bay window, nodding to himself when he discovers the outdoor settling, with chairs, hammocks and so much flowers it looks like it’s a real garden. For a few minutes, Erik wonders how would be his life if he had money. Well, there’s no point in thinking about it, so he closes the bay window and walks back to the kitchen to start working.

 

He settles next to the gas stove and opens the cupboard next to it before emptying it to slide himself in. He pulls a bit on the gas stove to check the branch. It’ll be tricky making the leak look like an accident but he only needs thirty minutes or so. He won’t make a gas leak, first because he’s not sure when Charles will be back, plus he doesn’t want half of the building to blow off. There’re won’t be any victims beside Xavier tonight, he’ll make sure of that. So, Erik has to sabotage the thing enough so it only leaks carbon monoxide. Unlike gas, Charles won’t even smell it, he’ll go to bed and never wake up. Erik might be an assassin but pain is not something he wants to inflict.

  
  


He draws back out of the cupboard and takes off the upper half of his overalls, staying in his white tank. He looks around for his bag, kneeling on the floor when there’s a very posh English accent asking him:

 

“Who are you?”

 

He turns around and there’s Charles Xavier, here. He hasn’t heard the door and the man is in a wheelchair.  _ What the actual fuck _ .

 

“Gas intervention. A neighbor called, said it smelt like gas in the building.”

 

“So you broke into my flat and decided to empty my cereal cupboard to check if the leak was coming from my place?” Xavier asks very politely, like he’s the one at fault.

 

“Your door was open. You can check, I didn’t break it.”

 

Charles turns his head and draws back a bit to check if the man is telling the truth (amazing how he’s not the slightest bit worried about turning his back on a stranger) and comes back, nodding.

 

“Alright, but that doesn’t explain why you’re martyring my Reese's Puffs.”

 

Erik has to blink and check the cereal box next to him to understand what the man is talking about. He doesn’t even realize he’s grinning.

 

“I needed to check the connection of your gas stove. It’s a nice kitchen you have here, but the modern ones are incredibly hard to access.”

 

“Don’t tell me, I’m in a wheelchair,” Xavier whispers loudly, blinking at him, before he rolls to his fridge. “Can I get you anything to drink? A Diet Coke? An iced tea maybe? I also have wine. And cocaine.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Erik wonders, still kneeling on the ground with a monkey wrench in his hand.

 

“Kidding. I don’t have Diet Coke anymore,” Charles says, before smiling at him over his shoulder. “Wine it will be. I’m dreaming of a nice  _ rosé _ .”

 

He closes the fridge and rolls to another cupboard that happens to be a wine cooler which is amazingly filled - and for a second Erik wonders if Xavier really lives alone here. He looks at him picking up two glasses from a low cupboard before he puts them on the central island - a bit too high for him and Erik realizes McCarey never mentioned Xavier is in a wheelchair. _ And why did he see him leaving the building, walking? _

 

“So, did you find the leak?” Xavier wonders, giving him one of the glasses which Erik hesitates to accept.

 

“... Not yet.”

 

“Is it going to take long? I’m quite tired, I was about to go to bed. Well, not immediately because obviously I’m still dressed but very soon. Is it not too hard to work by night?”

 

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Erik can’t help but growl, absolutely stunned by the mess that is happening right now and even more stunned by the fact that this person doesn’t seem to be conscious of danger at  _ all _ .

 

Xavier slightly ducks his head and looks at his glass, before wedging it between his legs and rolling away, mumbling a “sorry” which finds a direct road to Erik’s stomach. He shakes his head once the man - his  _ target _ \- is out of his sight and enters the cupboard again to work on the gas stove connection. Once he’s done, he’ll make Charles sign a fake paper then he’ll leave and tomorrow, around noon, he’ll receive the other half of the money on his secret bank account. There. Everything is fine. So why is he shivering so  _ much _ ?

 

He pulls back and stands up. If he keeps working like this, he’s really going to create a gas leak and he’ll kill them both. He needs to focus, to breathe, to relax. He needs to remember why he’s doing this.

 

“... Can I demand you if you’re done, or is that another question I’m not supposed to ask?” Xavier wonders with a tiny voice and Erik turns his head to see him in the living-room, still in his wheelchair, among the white leather sofas.

 

“It’s a bit more complicated than I thought.” 

 

Xavier nods and fills his glass again. Erik realizes he didn’t even touch his. He grabs it and empties it. At least, the alcohol is good.

 

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” he asks, nodding to the man whose eyebrows go high up. “Why are you pulling a face? You’re not aware you’re tetraplegic?” Erik smirks.

 

Xavier actually smiles too, as if to say  _ touché _ , and answers very calmly, “I had a car accident. And I’m not tetraplegic, I’m  _ paraplegic _ , which means I only can’t move my legs but I can do this,” he lifts his middle finger to him and that makes Erik laugh for three seconds, before he stops himself.

 

He puts his empty glass on the counter island and turns around.  _ What the hell is he doing _ ? He never talks to his targets, he never even meets them and now he’s laughing at the jokes of one of them? This is bad,  _ really bad _ , it always takes him months to accept what he did to someone (that’s why he doesn’t accept more than two jobs per year) and this won’t help at all.

 

“People never ask me.”

 

Erik blinks. What is Xavier talking about? He turns around to look at him again. Xavier has a sad smile when he clarifies:

 

“People never ask me why I’m in a wheelchair.”

 

“I’m rude,” Erik explains, shrugging.

 

“Terribly, you didn’t even knock before you came into my apartment.”

 

“I did, you just didn’t answer and I couldn’t wait. Security measures.”

 

“I was in the bathroom, I would have heard you if you actually knocked.”

 

“Why do I have the impression that I saw you walking out of the building, twenty minutes ago?” Erik finally asks, because Xavier might be extremely polite and Bambi-esque, but there’s something wrong about him.

 

Charles slightly frowns and nods, “Ah. I see.” He takes off his brake and rolls closer to Erik to explain, “My sister is a mutant too. She’s a metamorph. She came to have dinner with me and, as it was late, she took my appearance to go back to her flat by foot. It’s always better for a young woman like her to look like a boring geeky man like me, when she goes back home late in the night.”

 

“What do you mean a mutant  _ too _ ?”

 

“Like me and like you,” Charles pursues just as quickly, before he stretches out a hand and smiles at Erik, “Nice to meet you, my name is Charles Xavier and I’m a telepath.”

 

A  _ telepath _ ? McCarey never told him that, this is wrong and dangerous. Erik’s not sure what is happening but it’s not good and why the fuck did he accept this job, especially when he knew that Charles Xavier couldn't hurt a fly? He most probably already knows why Erik is here and Erik doesn’t want to… -  _ no _ , it’s more than that, Erik  _ can’t _ go to jail.

 

“... and you are?”

 

“Here because of the gas leak,” Erik answers quickly, by reflex.

 

Charles let out a cute laugh, before he moves his fingers to show Erik he’s still waiting for him to shake his hand, “That I know, but I was wondering about your name.”

 

They look at each other a bit more before Erik finally shakes his hand, answering “Erik Lehnsherr,” and if he gives his real name, it’s only because it gives him another reason to take care of the man, tonight.

 

“You look a little pale, Erik.”

 

“Am I?” he lies, because he knows it, he feels so sick of what he has to do to someone he found so nice.

 

“Do you want to eat something? That is, if you can take a break?”

 

“... I’d like that, thank you. I think I actually repaired the leak. I’ll check again in thirty minutes,” the words are out and he doesn’t know why.

 

Charles nods. He nods too.

 

Charles rolls to the kitchen where he takes out some cheese, grapes and bread to prepare a meal tray and Erik watches him, hypnotized, even if it’s not particularly pleasant to see, because it looks like it’s hard for Charles to move around all those furniture which are too tall for him.

 

“If you are wondering if it’s difficult on my side, it is. Terribly,” Charles smiles at him, still preparing the tray.

 

“When did you have that accident?”

 

“One year ago. Thirteen months, precisely.”

 

“You’re still not used to the chair, are you?”

 

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it one day,” Charles answers rather dryly. “Do you mind if we eat in the living-room? The central island looks like the Kilimanjaro from where I’m at.”

 

Erik smiles despite himself and nods. He gets ready to take the tray but Charles is quicker than him and meticulously puts it on his own knees before rolling to the living-room. Erik follows him and sits on one of the sofas, a damn cosy one.

 

“You should meet my sister, Raven. She’s beautiful,” Charles says, starting to spread cheese on a slice of bread. “She’s pregnant. In less than two months I’m going to be an uncle,” he smiles but seems sad nonetheless and Erik realises he seems sad all the time.

 

“Why don’t you order a new kitchen, adapted to your chair? It looks like you have enough money.”

 

“I sure do,” he says and pours himself a new glass of wine. “But I like it as it is. I like that it’s a beautiful, modern and a bit show-off flat. Instead of being a flat adapted to a cripple, I mean.”

 

Erik starts to eat, eyes fixing on Charles.

 

“I cried for about four hours when a worker came to install a guardrail next to the toilets. After that, every time I was entering the bathroom, I bursted out in tears, for a whole month. I organized a dinner here, once, with Raven and friends of hers, and I started started crying while I was rolling to the bathroom. People noticed and they asked me what was wrong and Raven shouted out  _ ‘Don’t worry, he just needs to take a piss!’ _ ... Which is pretty funny when we think about it now.”

 

Charles raises his eyes, bites his slice of bread and swallows it. Erik still looks at him, bewildered before he bursts out in laughter.

 

“It  _ is _ funny. I would have loved to see their faces!”

 

“Well they were pretty shocked. I mean, I’m not sure you often meet people who cry when they have to take a leak,” Charles says, falsely serious and that makes Erik laugh even more.

 

He leans forward to pour them two more glasses of wine and empties them. Charles tells him to go fetch another, which he automatically does, before settling back on the couch.

 

“How is your sister handling the fact that you’re in a wheelchair?” Erik asks, maybe a bit helped by the alcohol he already drank.

 

“She blames me for it.” Erik stops drinking and Charles nods, “She’s right, it was my fault. I ran a stop sign. I hit another car,” he shrugs then nods again, eyes fixing nothing in particular. “I was drunk.”

 

They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, before Erik mumbles, even if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, “I’m sorry”.

 

“Don’t be. It’s a family tradition. My mum was addicted to her Bloody Mary, her father was addicted to his Brandy and I’m convinced it’s my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-father who actually conceived distillation.”

 

“Then I’ll end up with cancer I guess,” Erik grins before he realizes what he just said and shakes his head. “Sorry. Didn’t want to bring that up.”

 

Charles opens his lips - wet and pink, because of the wine - but doesn’t say anything. It’s probably for the best. He has a dark sense of  humor but Erik’s not sure he can handle jokes about cancer. He stands up and walks to the bay window to look at the terrace, lightened up by discreet lamps scattered among the brushes and flowers.

 

“This is nice. I’d love to have a balcony.”

 

“Yes, well I’d give you mine if it was possible.” Erik looks at him above his shoulder frowning. Charles smiles, stretching his head backward a bit before he adds, “Of course, you didn’t notice it. No one does, as long as one isn’t in a wheelchair.” He stretches out a hand and points at the three steps that are leading to the door, “Not adapted to my chair either. I only enjoy the high luxury of having a private terrace when Hank, my brother-in-law, is here and carries me. And let’s not talk about the stairs you might have seen in the entrance. My bedroom used to be on the second floor but of course, I had to move it and now my bed is in what used to be my tiny office.”

 

“And I guess your brother-in-law isn’t visiting often?” Erik smirks.

 

“Only when Raven comes too. She’s not… she doesn’t like the two of us to be alone, even if there are not a lot of things I can do in my – sorry, I’m terribly sorry Erik. Why am I telling you all about my life? That’s terribly rude,” he says and bitterly laughs, shaking his head and drinking his awkwardness away.

 

Erik slowly comes back to sit next to him. He doesn’t quite understand what Charles is implying and he wonders if there’s a dark secret he could dig that’d reveal who might be McCarey – as it’s clear it’s someone from Charles’ relatives, because the man (or the woman) knows about the book he’s writing.

 

“What’s wrong with you being alone with your brother-in-law?” he wonders with a soft voice.

 

Charles looks at him from under his way too long eyelashes and makes a discreet pout before he answers, faking a smile to pretend to be extremely at ease.

 

“I might have hit on him, once.”

 

That’s bad – a bit sick too – but could it be enough to make Raven want to kill her brother?

 

“Raven and I… well, my parents adopted her when she was five and I was sent away in a boarding school when I was twelve, so we didn’t spend that many years together. When our parents died, she was sixteen and as she couldn’t bear boarding school – I can’t blame her, I hated it too, even if it was in the beautiful mountains in Switzerland. I welcomed her in my flat in the United Kingdom, where I was studying back then. I guess, living with me and seeing me half like a friend and half like the authority figure she never had… confused her, at some point. I bought her a flat in New York and didn’t talk to her for a year before I came here too. She was doing better. She had found a job in an advertising company and at one of the party she organized, I met this man, Hank, who suited me on so many levels,” Charles says and dryly laughs before drinking. “She found us flirting, well, actually it was me who was flirting, and she literally screamed at me, saying he was her boyfriend, that I needed to stop right away, and so on, which is perfectly normal, I’m always a bit of a jerk when I’m drunk.”

 

“So you probably should stop drinking while I still think you’re tolerable,” Erik growls, reaching for the bottle and hides it behind the sofa, earning a surprised look from Charles’ face.

 

It barely sets him off guard before he shakes his head and smiles, “After everything I told you, you still think I’m tolerable?”

 

“That seems to surprise you.”

 

“Well I’m telling you I’m a spoiled brat who hits on his sister’s boyfriend  _ and  _ who was in a car accident because he drank too much.”

 

“Do you want  _ me _ to blame you? It looks like you’re blaming yourself hard enough.”

 

Charles blinks and straightens in the back of his armchair. He stays silent for a while before he mumbles, “Between pity and reproach, I’m not used to have any other social interactions anymore.”

 

So, Raven might be someone of whom Charles seems particularly fond of. It looks like the woman can’t get past what happened between that Hank guy and her brother… Maybe she’s McCarey then and she used Charles’ book to pull the trigger of Erik’s instincts. But how does she know that Erik is particularly sympathetic to the Mutant cause?

 

“How did Hank react?” Erik asks, drinking from his own glass and doesn’t help himself from refilling.

 

“Good. My attempts to seduce him amused him, I think. But of course he never told her we kissed ten minutes before she arrived and the poor guy is scared to death that she’ll ever find out one day.”

 

Erik’s eyes open widely. That makes so much more sense. Unless if Raven is kind of obsessive, she wouldn’t want to see her brother dead.  _ But _ , her boyfriend – husband now? Erik doesn’t know that – the father of their child, he has reasons to never want for Charles to open his bloody mouth. Hank can definitely be McCarey. Erik shakes his head to crawl back out of his thoughts and notices that Charles is staring at him, undoubtedly judging his reaction about the reveal of his sexuality, but Erik couldn’t care less.

 

“Telepath, then,” he changes the subject, eating a grape.

 

“Yes. But don’t worry, I never read someone else’s mind without his consent.”

 

“How did you know I’m a mutant?”

 

“I couldn’t explain it. It just strikes me when I meet one. And meeting you definitely struck me,” Charles adds with a voice a bit softer than before.

 

“I know another telepath. She works with me.”

 

“She works at the gas company?” Charles wonders and makes Erik blush because for a second, he forgot about his cover and he thought he was just having a drink with a guy he just met and that’s such a dangerous game he is playing right now.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Is she your girlfriend?” he asks, eyebrows dancing above his blue Bambi-eyes… which, somehow, became blue Barbie-eyes.

 

“No, why would you think that?”

 

“You blushed when I mentioned her.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Erik growls, straightening on the couch and putting another  grape in his mouth.

 

“Don’t worry, Erik, I don’t judge heterosexual people. I think you guys are very brave to live such a way of life and you should be proud of who you are,” he says, falsely moved and Erik constantly needs to stop and look at this man to make sure he’s real.

 

“You’re weird,” he states out loud.

 

“I like that term. It’s so much more cooler than  _ ‘Mr. Xavier, psychologically speaking you’re depressed’ _ don’t you think?” he smiles, before bringing back the empty tray to the kitchen.

 

Erik turns around to watch him roll and struggling to put everything away, before Charles comes back. 

 

“I’ve been called many names actually:  _ geek _ , repeatedly, when I was a boy;  _ fag _ , even more repeatedly, when I was a teenager;  _ manipulative _ , even if I never understood where this one comes from, especially as I know I could  _ really _ get manipulative if I wanted to;  _ dangerous _ , but this one comes from someone pretty special so, that doesn’t count;  _ easy _ , by the guys who…”

 

“Why would anyone call you dangerous?” Erik interrupts him, leaning toward Charles. It’s the same word the guy who ordered the job used, and it might be the same person.

 

“An old friend of mine. Of my family, precisely. His name is Sebastian Shaw. He owns a company of which I really don’t approve the production.”

 

“Shaw as in  _ Shaw Industry _ which produces guns?”

 

“Precisely. You know him?” Charles asks with a bit more animosity this time and it’s impressive how expressive the man is.

 

“I wanted to apply to that company but I read one of Shaw’s interviews he did a few years back. Some things he said was quite anti-Semitic.”

 

“Oh yes, I remember that interview. That was awful and all the more reason to be vigilant with that man. He’s a mutant too, as you may know? But we both have very different views on  how Mutants and Humans are supposed to co-exist simply because he doesn’t believe in co-existence. He’s convinced mutants are superior to humans.”

 

“Well, he’s not totally wrong, I guess.”

 

There’s a long pause in the overly well decorated living-room before Charles asks, accent posher than before:

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Humans and mutants aren’t equal, that is a fact. Because of our mutations, we jump higher, walk faster, work better. Then there are mutations like yours, which extend beyond capacities humans don’t even have the slightest clue about. And in like any other groups, the stronger and smarter ones are the leaders. The rest follows.”

 

“... Which is something I already heard from Sebastian, but I’m sorry to say, my friend, that I think you’re wrong. It’s by thinking that we  _ could _ be leaders that humans will fear us and reject us.”

 

“They already  _ do _ . Don’t you read newspapers? Don’t you watch the news? All those kids, beaten up in the streets on their way home,  _ just  _ because they don’t look like any average human being? Didn’t you hear about that man who tried to shoot mutants who were having dinner in a restaurant in San Jose, because he  _ just _ ‘didn’t want them there’?” Erik speaks more loudly than before, starting to lose his temper.

 

“I know all of that, Erik, but it’s why we need to teach them who we are, that our mutations are harmless, and that we all can live together. I’m sorry if I sound like a John Lennon song but I really do believe what I’m saying. I’m writing a book that…”

 

“Oh you’re writing a book? Tell me all about it,” he snarls, knowing perfectly well that he must be looking scary, smiling the way he does, but Charles’ opinions are so naive it’s painful to hear.

 

“Well in this book, I mention all of the mutations I discovered and it’s really simply explained - as well as some genetic details but that was just me wanting to have fun - so that the humans who will read it will understand that, in the end, mutants and humans are pretty much equal.”

 

Erik’s eyes open wide as he starts to shake his head instinctively, “You  _ are _ dangerous. If this book comes out, mutants will get killed.”

 

“No, I forbid you to say things like that, my friend,” Charles says lowly, wincing.

 

“I am definitely not your friend and  _ please just shut your fucking mouth _ ,” he shouts, standing up and almost running to the kitchen to finish his task, blaming himself for actually considering he could just leave and not finish this job, while Charles is maybe even more dangerous than the previous four targets he took care of the last two years - three assassins and a politician who were all humans. He picks up his monkey wrench and kneels but someone knocks at the door. He looks at Charles and asks, “Are you waiting for someone?”

 

Charles shakes his head, frowning, and starts to roll to the main entrance. Erik focuses and feels the similar sensation of a metal he knows a bit too well:  _ guns _ . There are two cops behind the door. He quickens his pace without making a sound and catches the handles of Charles’ chair to hold him back before he whispers to his ear:

 

“There are two policemen behind that door. Tell them anything about me and I swear to God that Raven will be very much hurt. Do you understand me? Please don’t fucking open your lips and just nod.”

 

Charles entirely freezes and his small hands tighten around his armrest. It takes him a few seconds before he nods. Erik lets him go and waits behind the door as Charles opens it. Erik inspects his face while he talks to the cops and the guy is an amazing actor. He smiles to welcome them, seems really shocked when he hears neighbors saw someone hanging around (the cops say he might be a burglar), and Charles thanks them again and again for telling him so, promising he’ll call 911 if he sees anything strange. They finally leave and Charles closes the door before looking at Erik. When their eyes meet, Erik ignores the dull ache in his stomach.

 

“Listen to me and don’t make a sound.”

 

He focuses and melts the brakes of Charles’ wheelchair to prevent him from moving and leans to lift him in his arms. Charles is so cold it almost burns his skin. He barely meets his gaze and puts him in on one of the wooden chairs of the dining table, before dragging it to the center of the room. He goes back to the kitchen where he fully takes off his overalls, leaving him in his white tank top and bottom tracksuit. He grabs the rope he always keeps in his bag and comes back to tie Charles to the chair.

 

“I won’t hurt you but I need to do this.”

 

He ties a knot around his two wrists and doesn’t bother in doing the same with the thin ankles. Charles is not fighting at all. Even if he’s in a wheelchair, he could scream, use his hands. God almighty, he could even use his  _ powers _ . But he just listened to Erik and doesn’t talk nor move. It almost feels like Erik would like him to do something.  _ What the hell is happening tonight _ . He shakes his head - hard - and says, without looking at the man he just tied.

 

“I’m going to finish what I started, then I’ll put you in your bed. I saw the sleeping pills in your cupboard, you’ll take two, and you will feel nothing. I swear.”

 

_ Just a job, Lehnsherr. Just a job. _

 

He nods to give himself some courage, when Charles’ voice resonates.

 

“Why do you need the money for?”

 

He breathes in through his nose and needs a moment before he could answer, their eyes firmly locked.

 

“You clearly don’t want to kill me. Not by your own choice, at least. And as I’m perfectly sure we’ve never met before, you’re doing this because someone asked you to. The way you’ve set it all up… you’ve planned this, gave it a lot of thought. You’re a professional. Killing me, it’s for compensation, isn’t it? Please, just tell me why you need the money for.”

 

_ Just leave and turn the fucking nut, Lehnsherr _ , Erik thinks so hard that it hurts.

 

He breathes out. Slowly. Steadily. Erik can’t find anything to compare Charles’ eyes with as nothing in this world is this honest and bewitching. His voice is calm and maybe a bit husky when he tells him:

 

“Because my mother is dying and I have to do something. She has cancer - breast cancer. It’s… bad, it always is. We have no money, no mutual fund. We were living in Germany and one night, when I was twenty-one, my father got killed, by skinheads. It was terrible, my mom almost went crazy. So her brother welcomed us in Boston and we left everything and came in the United States. Everything I earn is for her. I can’t watch her suffer, can’t watch her  _ die _ , Charles, I just can’t. I need this. I’m not expecting you to understand, but I need to  _ do _ this.”

 

_ And I’m sorry. So terribly sorry. Say it, Lehnsherr. Say it. _

 

He looks at him a bit more and nods once, and Charles’ lips barely open, he’s mumbling, eyes wet with tears he’s too proud to acknowledge, and Erik automatically kneels to listen to him. This close, all he can see are the freckles on Charles’ face, the plushy lips and his watery eyes that Erik hates to find fascinating. 

 

“I have a lot of money...” Charles whispers, barely audible, smiling even if it seems painful for him.

 

Erik puts both of his hands on the armrests and keeps looking at him. Sure, Charles is extremely rich, more than what McCarey intends to pay him in the end, but he already received half of the payment and Charles would certainly call the cops before calling his bank, if Erik does release him. He waits but Charles doesn’t finish his sentence, so Erik whispers in his turn:

 

“Why would you give me money?”

 

“… So you could protect Raven. Be here for her. Keep an eye on her. She’s an amazing woman, she deserves the best.”

 

There are tears on Charles’ cheeks now and he’s panting very softly, trying to keep his calm. Erik wonders, voice gentle as a caress to the cheek:

 

“Why didn’t you offer me your money to not kill you instead?”

 

This time, Charles’ lips presses close and Erik sits back on his heels. He shivers when he realizes he’s facing a man who actually favors the lives of others more than his own. Erik knows this feeling. Erik thought he was the only one feeling this way. Life tangled with another, and yet, so  _ alone _ . He slowly unties him, ears so close to the sobbing mouth it physically hurts him. He lifts him up once again, but this time, he doesn’t rush into it. The more he walks towards the only door he hasn’t open yet, the more Charles’ head slips against his chest. 

 

He opens the handle with his powers and discovers Charles’ bedroom. It’s not as big as the other rooms, has only two windows and, facing the bed, a double door which opens to a bathroom. There are two bedside tables and another one in a corner, with the statue of a man walking on it. On the other corner, there’s a huge shelf that is brimming filled and a little desk without any chair, with a laptop on it. Erik makes Charles sit on the side of the bed and takes out of his back pocket the sleeping pills he took in the kitchen before kneeling in front of him again. He puts the orange box on the bedside table and softly catches Charles’ chin to make him raise his head. Charles seems both drunk and exhausted, eyes bulged because of all the tears he’s hardly holding back and his mouth is incredibly red, like his cheeks. Erik drinks in the sight of him, for several seconds, maybe even minutes, before Charles’ breath calms down. And when it feels like they’re equal again, Erik murmurs:

 

“I don’t want to kill you.”

 

Charles is looking back at him. He discreetly swallows and whispers too:

 

“I don’t want to die.”

 

Erik barely straightens up and kisses him. He closes his eyes and keeps holding his chin when he makes their lips touch. A simple kiss. It’s just a simple kiss. He feels between them a salty tear and it’s amazing how he already knows he’ll never forget the taste of that moment.

 

He starts to withdraw; he’ll take his stuff and leave. Maybe he’ll leave New York for a few days even if he didn’t sabotage the gas stove in the end. But there’s something holding him and it’s Charles’ arms around his neck.

 

Erik opens his eyes and sees that Charles is already looking at him. His eyes are even bluer than the waters in which Erik feels himself drowning every night and he doesn’t seem particularly sure of himself, nor he thinks he is lost. He just looks like a man Erik could fall for. Or maybe he already did.

 

“Stay,” Charles whispers, stroking Erik’s cheek. “Please, stay…” he almost begs but Erik kisses him right away. He doesn’t want Charles to think he’ll spend the night because Charles asked him to, as he was himself ready to plead. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he murmurs, again and again, kissing Erik’s lips.

 

Erik withdraws a bit, just to check Charles’ eyes and what he reads cannot be faked: it’s pure honesty trapped in distress. He strokes the reddened cheek with his thumb and nods. Charles noisily breathes out, nods in return and leans forward to kiss him again, this time sliding his tongue between his lips until he can’t go any further. Erik moans and gently pushes him to lay down with a hand firmly holding his back.  _ It’s been so long _ , Erik thinks, but at the same time, _ it never felt that way _ . It’s amazing to be able to kiss someone without thinking about the consequences because Erik will leave before the sun rises and tonight will only be a memory - not quite a dream but definitely not a nightmare either. He’ll send the money back to McCarey. He’ll accept any other job, he doesn’t care. Anyone but Charles Xavier.

 

They stop devouring each other’s mouth and Erik nips his jaw and neck, making Charles moan. His hand drifts to his crotch but he stops right above his navel and asks:

 

“What can you feel?”

 

Charles blinks forcefully, and barely bites his bottom lips before raising his head to look at the hand on his belly.

 

“I can’t… not much… I can’t get hard. I can’t ejaculate.”

 

“But is it good for you ?” Erik wonders, a bit confused.

 

“Yes, sure, yes…” his words trail off while Erik tenderly sucks his skin, then he says, “I guess.”

 

That makes Erik stop. He straightens up on his elbows to look at Charles and understands.

 

“You haven’t –”

 

“No, I haven’t fucked since the accident,” Charles snaps at him (but more probably at himself) before turning his head to not look at Erik again.

 

Erik stares at him for a few seconds before he does the only thing that crosses his mind: he kisses Charles’ neck again. He closes his eyes and licks the tender skin under his jaw, up to behind his ear and almost purrs when he smells the delicate perfume hiding in the soft brown locks. Charles’ hand lands on his back and starts to stroke him, so Erik keeps going, licking softly, until he reaches Charles’ ear and starts to suck it. Charles whines, barely audible and Erik drops kisses like raindrops all around his collar before he reaches his left ear. He gently makes him turn his head to the other side to access every parcel of skin he intends to devour with a merciless tenderness. This time, Charles’ hand doesn’t stroke him but grabs his white tank top, so Erik stops and raises his head to kiss his cheek, whispering:

 

“Are you okay…?”

 

Because he has no answer, he follows Charles’ gaze to find it pointing at the statue of the man walking, on the wooden table.

 

“I hate it…” Charles murmurs and Erik automatically gets it. “I hate how ironic it is. I could have bought it myself, that would have been funny, but it was a gift, merely a month before I was possessed by such stupidity that I thought I was really better than anyone else and I thought I could drive even after I emptied a bottle of wine. Now it’s here and it’s staring at me, all day long, from the moment I wake up to the moment I fall asleep.” He slowly turns his head to look at Erik, eyes wet with silent tears and continues, “I tried to break it. I threw it on the ground one night. It didn’t break. I’m broken and  _ it _ didn’t break.”

 

Erik immediately kisses him on the lips and stretches out a hand to the statue. He looks at it, proud and daring at the other side of the room, and he focuses until the metal starts to shrink on itself. He feels Charles’ chest hitting his own, faster and deeper, until the statue has entirely melted down and looks like a common grey brick. He turns his head again to look at Charles and kisses his chin when he hears a voice in his head.

 

‘ _ Thank you.’ _

 

He has to blink twice before he understands Charles used his powers too. That makes him smile. Incredibly  _ smile _ .

 

Charles grabs the back of his head with both of his hands and forces him down to take control of his mouth again. He kisses him deep and hard, moaning and panting at the same time.

 

‘ _ Thank you,’ _ he repeats and for the first time Erik realizes what a beautiful word it is. He feels Charles’ hands sliding from his back to his chest to take off his top before his hands start to firmly stroke his hard-on, making him moan out loud. “Can you undress? Please…” Charles asks against his lips.

 

Erik nods and refuses to fully stand up as he awkwardly does as he’s told before reaching for Charles’ shirt and unbuttoning it. He discovers a muscular chest and arms which he kisses rapidly before he starts to open Charles’ fly. He is surprised by Charles’ hand which automatically stops him.

 

“Wait…” he nuzzles his nose to hold his attention before he explains, “I have scars.”

 

Erik doesn’t know how bad they are so he breathes in before he answers, “Me too.”

 

His are on his arms and legs. Silly marks of a time when anger was his mantra and all he could do was use his fists on things – and other kids – because he didn’t know any better. What he would give to go back in time and change the mistakes he made… He swallows his shame down his stomach and gently pulls out Charles’ pants. There are impressive scars along both of his thighs and Erik feels the urge to kiss them right away but they seem painful.

 

‘ _ They’re not. I’m sorry, Erik, you must not realize this but you’re projecting your thoughts a lot. And I know how you feel about your past. We all have our demons… I wish I could go back in time and never start drinking because I thought it was _ cool.’

 

Erik offers him a pitiful smile. He brushes the tip of his fingers on the red marks. It takes him some time before he looks at the flaccid cock because, even if he knows it’s strictly physical, it’s weird to be with a man who doesn’t seem excited by what they’re doing. He kisses his jaw and asks, “Can I fuck you?”

 

Charles actually shivers at that and nods before he answers, huskily “Yes. Yes, please, yes.”

 

_ Please _ , Charles is saying while it should be Erik who should beg  _ Please let me kiss you until I forget my own existence. Please let me love you and make you feel alive again. Please forgive me for everything _ .

 

“There are condoms and lube in the bathroom. Second drawer – no, third drawer. I think,” he smiles awkwardly, clearly not a subject that he talks about often.

 

“Don’t undress yourself and don’t move,” Erik orders by reflex, standing up.

 

“Not moving is something I’m particularly good at,” Charles answers and that make Erik stop.

 

He turns around to look at Charles, laying on his bed, face turned towards him and it’s amazing how that man has as much power to destabilize him as to make him laugh.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks him, slowly stroking his own belly.

 

“That I’d have never hit on you if we have met in a bar,” he confesses.

 

“Because of the chair,” it’s not even a question.

 

“Yes,” and that’s the truth, but now, Erik knows Charles, he made him laugh and he knocked down everything that Erik was barely holding back and Erik wants him. Badly. He finishes his walk to the adjacent bathroom and opens the drawers. At the bottom, he finds condoms - almost expired, they’re lucky - and lube in a plastic case that has dust on it. He brings back the entire case to the bed and crawls on it before he strokes Charles’ chest. “Can I settle you differently?”

 

Charles frowns a bit but shrugs. “Yes, but I can’t move on top of you.”

 

“I know, that’s not what I was thinking about. Do you trust me?” and Erik realizes too late what a dumb thing that is to ask. They both stare at each other and neither of them move nor talk for ten seconds before Erik approaches the case to break their eye contact and Charles straightens up on his elbows, to have something to do too.

 

The rest of their movements is so natural, it’s a wonder they’ve never met before. Erik puts pillows against the headboard and makes Charles sit against it. He checks that he’s well settled, back against the plushy pillows, before he moves his pelvis a bit forward and makes him spread his legs. Charles pulls a face, like he’s not sure he won’t slip and Erik doesn’t wait any longer, before he calls to him the statue he turned into a useless lump of metal. Once it’s floating next to them, he slices it in two parts, using his powers, and spreads it around Charles’ calves who watches him, bewildered.

 

“Okay, now, I’m going to think about how I’m planning to go about this, okay? Try to peek into my mind… see for yourself.”

 

“Alright,” Charles nods even if he doesn’t seem convinced.

 

Erik kneels between the open legs and stares at the two lumps of metal that has become of the atrocious statue, trying to make sense of what it means to him to feel and control metal, until Charles breathes in noisily.

 

“I can feel it… I can feel it encircling my legs.”

 

“Good,” Erik growls, holding his hardening cock, “Can you move them? Using my powers  while you’re in my mind, I mean.”

 

Charles stares at him with a shocked look on his beautiful face and closes his lips. He looks at his right calf and nothing happens for nearly three minutes before his leg opens a bit more.

 

“Oh my G –“, Charles starts but Erik has to kiss him right away. He smiles against his lips and firmly holds his face when he penetrates his mouth with his tongue as if he is fucking him and  _ gosh _ how excited he is.

 

“That’s beautiful,  _ you’re  _ beautiful,” he pants, reaching for the lube in the plastic case. He has trouble pressing the tip, clearly the thing hasn’t been used in a long time, and when the first spurts of the liquid hit his hand, he has to add so much more, it’s ridiculous.

 

“It’s been a long time, Erik…” Charles says, not seeming very confident about all this.

 

“I know, I know, don’t worry…” he presses their lips together again, moving his fingers to Charles’ entrance at the same time. He strokes it gently, preventing himself from just pushing in and licks Charles’ plush lips in a silent request . When he finally nods, Erik doesn’t even realize he murmurs, “Thank you,” before pushing his first finger in, knuckle-deep.

 

Charles makes a muffled sound, head banging against the headboard and eyes opening wide. Erik follows the movements of his head to keep staring at his wonderful eyes and check if everything is okay. As much as he’d like to stop and give him time, he just can’t prevent his lubed finger to go all the way in the tight entrance until he can’t go further. Charles’ hand harshly grabs the short hair on his neck and Erik automatically shrivels as a primitive way to say he’s sorry. But Charles doesn’t slap him away nor does he ask him for more, so Erik waits until he feels him relaxed before he starts to move his finger. It takes them a countless number of times to spread Charles’ tight hole until they both feel neither of them will get hurt afterward. When Erik puts on the condom, Charles’ hand comes to stroke him several times, as if to properly feel his length and width, actually shivering while doing so.

 

“Okay?” he asks when he rests the tip of his cock against his hole.

 

“Yes,” Charles briefly smiles, before he focuses hard enough to use Erik’s powers to encircle his legs around Erik’s waist.

 

Erik shakes his head by reflex, still not realizing Charles is actually able to do so, and starts to penetrate him with a low growl. They both freeze when the head of his cock painfully passes through the first rim of muscles and Charles’ hands stop touching and scratching his back , to scratch the wooden headboard instead, trying to find something to hold on. Erik notices it and spreads his arms to catch his hands and interlacing their fingers together. Charles silently begs for a kiss, opening his mouth, and Erik gladly gives it to him, soft and passionate, until they both feel they’re so tangled up, life will never be the same. Erik waits until their mouths separate and starts to slowly fuck him, eyes fixed on his cock disappearing between the open thighs. The narrow heat around his cock is so marvelous he’s internally praying it feels as good on Charles’ side, because he can’t live that alone, that’d be unfair. But Charles moans and tightens his legs a bit harder so it seems like it’s good for him too.

 

‘ _ It is… weird and so overwhelming, but good too,’ _ Charles sends him and Erik nods, before gently sucking his neck. “Are you… are you giving me a hickey?” Charles asks out loud this time and Erik shakes his head.

 

“I wasn’t, but…” _but_ _fuck,_ that’s an idea he loves. To leave a mark on Charles’ body, to make him his, to…

 

“Do it,” Charles pants, nodding eagerly, “do it, mark me,” he adds and Erik tightens his fingers so hard it hurts them both and catches Charles’ neck, delicate skin between his teeth before he sucks and sucks again, until Charles’ voice cracks and a reluctant scream escapes from his lips.

 

It feels so intimate, Erik actually feels like drowning in a consciousness merely his, now, like they’re  _ one _ . He looks at the dark mark and licks it before he orders, “Turn your head, lower.” 

 

Charles obeys willingly and this time Erik bites on a spot on his skin that is even higher, on a point just under his ear to be sure no collar could hide it away. Charles shivers all the way through, almost trying to get away but mostly pushing his neck to Erik’s devouring mouth. He lets out a dark and warm chuckle when he understands Erik’s purpose for marking him in a way that would be impossible to hide to the rest of the world, and he pants, looking at him with eyes heavy with lust:

 

“Are you going to come?”

 

“Yes,” Erik growls, hardening his thrusts until the bed creaks and the headboard hits the wall in rhythm. “Gosh I wish I could come inside you,” he holds tightly on Charles’ hands and starts to fuck him in earnest, forehead stuck together and eyes locked. 

 

“Come on me, come on my chest…”

 

“You – “

 

“Yes _ , yes _ , I want to see you do it,” he  _ begs _ with a broken voice which immediately makes Erik withdraw and take the condom off. He closes Charles’ legs without any gentleness and straddles them before he faces him, back straight, and he barely has time to touch himself before Charles grabs his cock and strokes him until he is milking him dry, long spurts of come hitting his chest and belly. Erik growls, low and deep until there’s no air in his lungs anymore and all he can do is shiver from head to toe, eyes fixed on his sperm beautifully marking Charles’ body, some of it disappearing on the hairs above his still flaccid cock. Charles must understand what he’s thinking about because he gently grabs Erik’s chin to make him raise his eyes.

 

“Look,” he says, voice a bit broken by his shameless whines, “I came too. In my own way,” he touches his own chest, covered not only by Erik’s semen but also by red marks which suit him so well it’s unfair. “My neck has become quite sensitive,” he explains, smiling a bit.

 

Erik lifts his hand and brushes his seed up to Charles’ nipples. He observes his reaction – a dark color invading his fascinating eyes – before he retrieves a bit more of it on his thumb, from Charles’ navel, to spread it on Charles’ neck, just under his ear, on the darkest hickey he made. Charles doesn’t close his eyes even once when he asks:

 

“Will you sleep here tonight?”

 

Erik stops at those words and looks at the body he ravished and loved with the same earnestness before he answers, “I will leave before you wake up.” It’s non-negotiable.

 

Charles deeply breathes in through his nose before he nods, “Alright.”

 

* * *

Erik thinks it’s not fair that for the first time in years, he actually sleeps and doesn’t feel like he’s drowning.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up at seven, precisely, like every morning. He has clean clothes in his bag. He’ll have a shower, put them on, buy a coffee on the way to work and he’ll ask Emma about her evening and will listen to the engineers talk about whatever movie or TV show one of them watched last night. Then he’ll go back home and he’ll send McCarey his money back. He could call his uncle to ask him for a job, any job. He’s the one who had dragged him to work in that field in the first place.

 

He stands up and rushes to the shower. He doesn’t close the door by reflex of living alone, but when he comes back to the bedroom, fully dressed, Charles is still sleeping on his belly, an arm curled up against himself, his thumb right under his own mouth. Erik wonders if he can kiss him before he leaves. Or leave a note. Maybe he should mention McCarey and the name would ring a bell to Charles.

 

Or maybe he doesn’t need to fall a bit more in the grave he’s digging for himself since he actually met the target and all he should do, as quickly as possible, is to leave. He checks all his things and heads to the door when there’s a very tiny  _ ding _ that comes from the computer. It wasn’t off and Erik automatically checks if Charles somehow recorded them or any sick idea like this, but the sound came from an email he just received. The window doesn’t cover all of the wallpaper that seems to be a portrait, so Erik reduces it and smiles when he discovers a picture of Charles holding in his arms a blond woman who must be his sister Raven. Charles is right, she’s beautiful and the way she’s looking at Charles is so pure and devoted, it’s touching. They’re both in front of ruins, under a heavy rain with wet coats but they’re both laughing as if it’s the best day of their lives. Erik smiles too.

 

He clicks on Google Chrome to open Charles’ email box again but it’s another one that appears. There aren’t as many emails, actually there are only four in the inbox and they all come from  obersee@faber.com . Erik almost chokes when he swallows his spit. He leans to the computer and checks the email address he’s on. It’s written right in front of his face:  _ leomccarey _ . 

 

He turns around and Charles is sitting on the bed, eyes wide and sorry.

 

“I will pay you nonetheless.”

 

Erik grabs a chair a few meters from where he stands and throws it against a wall, the loud sound of shattering wood making Charles flinch from where he is.

 

“ _ What the fuck, Charles _ ?” he shouts so hard his throat hurts him.

 

Charles awkwardly moves on the bed, incapable of standing up anyway, and lifts his hands as if he wants to calm him down.

 

“I’ll pay you the whole thing right away, I swear. Pass me my computer, I just have to –“

 

“ _ You _ hired me? You hired me to kill  _ you _ ?” Erik keeps on screaming, eyes bulging with unspeakable rage.

 

“ _ I said I’m going to pay you! _ Now pass me my computer and get the hell out of here!” Charles screams in return, so hard, it stuns the both of them.

 

Erik looks at the laptop and turns his head again, snarling, “Was that some sick game of yours? Poor little rich boy who gets bored and pretends to be a helpless cripple to he can be fucked by a stranger who just could kill him?”

 

“You shut your mouth, Erik,  _ you just shut your fucking mouth _ ,” Charles threatens, pointing his finger at him. “You have no idea what it feels like to open your eyes one day and to be lying on the ground, surrounded by people who look at you and know  that you won’t ever stand up again and you pray inside, you pray so hard that it’s just a nightmare, a fucking nightmare that you’ll wake up from because it isn’t real. But it is and all you can do is wait until they put you in a stretcher, drag you to the hospital... and you’re trying so hard to prove to their sad eyes that they’re wrong, but they’re  _ not _ and you can’t get up, and you just can’t be yourself again. You  _ can’t _ stand up when you wake up, you  _ can’t _ go wherever you want in the city you live in, you  _ can’t _ face the people you’re talking too, you  _ can’t _ hit on someone you like and you  _ can’t _ fucking have a hard-on, just, a simple hard-on,” he screams like he’s vomiting a truth that has been festering deep within and Erik feels sick too.

 

“So you –“

 

“I heard someone in the park thinking about a job you did for him and yes,  _ yes _ I hired you. Because Raven is going to have a baby and I don’t want her to have to take care of me on top of that. Hank had, like the  _ best _ job offer he could dream of in London, and he turned it down because Raven said she couldn’t leave me and that she’d never will. She deserves more, so much more, and I’m so sick of being dependent on everyone, I’m so sick of being myself, and you know the worst part? Even if there are nurses who come daily, even if Raven spends her time here, even if all of my colleagues, friends, cousins say they understand, say they’re  _ here for me _ , I’m so sick of being so, so alone!”

 

His scream gets swallowed in the walls and Charles blinks several times, eyes wet but he doesn’t seem to be able to cry. He runs a firm hand on his face and orders, voice broken:

 

“Get out.”

 

Erik breathes in so deeply it hurts, unmoving, facing the bed.

 

“No,” he hears himself say.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Charles asks, not patient in the slightest.

 

“No, I won’t get out and no, you’re not going to die.”

 

“Erik I’ve –“

 

He doesn’t let him finish and grabs the clothes Charles wore last night, before he climbs on the bed. He catches Charles’ wrist who suddenly pushes him away and they start to struggle, Erik trying to dress him and Charles trying to stop him. Erik is of course stronger and he hastily buttons his shirt before lifting him up and carrying him to his wheelchair. He then recreates the brakes easily. 

 

“Where are you taking me?” Charles growls, breathless, but Erik doesn’t answer. He searches through Charles’ stuff and finds a car key he ends up pressing in the parking area until a car’s headlights blink. He puts Charles on the passenger seat and almost throws the wheelchair in the trunk before he drives them away. They don’t speak for a long time, nor when they reach a hospital where Erik pushes Charles’ chair through the corridors. When they enter a cold room, with yellow flooring and a woman sitting in a comfy chair, with a drip on her forearm. Charles automatically turns around to stare at Erik with bewildered eyes.

 

“Hey mom,” Erik smiles nonetheless, deliberately ignoring Charles’ silent inquiry. He comes next to her to kiss her on the cheek and she offers him a wide smile only mothers can pull.

 

“Hallo mein Schatz,” she gently taps his shoulder and consciously touches the scarf on her head before she looks at Charles, intrigued.

 

“Charles, this is Esther, my mother,” Erik tells him curtly before turning back to her, “Mom, this is Charles. Charles almost killed himself last night.”

 

Charles stares at him, mouth firmly sealed, before he looks at Esther again, absolutely rattled by what’s happening. Esther nods sharply and tenderly smiles at Erik before she says to Charles with the sweetest voice:

 

“Thank you for not doing so.”

 

Charles blinks several times before he fakes a smile and breathes out, “I guess you’d have to thank Erik for that…”

 

“Do I? Or do  _ you _ ?” she asks, voice soft like a caress, looking at them both.

 

Erik looks at Charles. They’ll get there at one point.

 

“How are you, Mrs. Lehnsherr?” he whispers, modestly not mentioning her cancer. He has been at the receiving end of such thoughtless, empty words from people who don’t understand but it is different coming from him… because he means them.

 

“I’ll fight. I won’t surrender. There’re so many people that are counting on me.”

 

Charles has a brief and sad smile, and Esther continues:

 

“We just met, but I feel like you do want me to fight this nasty thing, right?”

 

“Yes, of course,” he answers and Erik finds him so beautiful when he’s honest.

 

“And I want you to fight the nasty thing you’re facing, too.”

 

“… And never surrender,” he repeats.

 

“Precisely,” she nods, smiling.

 

Erik smiles at them both. When a nurse comes to check on his mom’s drip, they exit the room and wait in the corridor. Charles seems calm again when he says:

 

“I’ll pay for the medical charges. But she’ll have to go to a clinic I know, which is much more adapted to her case. Breast cancer you said?”, Erik nods, “Alright, I’ll ask Doctor Ammy to take her case, she’s a good friend of mine and an amazing oncologist. Your mother will be in good hands.”

 

He breathes in through his nose and massages his hands while Erik stares at him, before he asks:

 

“Did you really write a book?”

 

Charles has to think for a while to remember what he’s talking about before he answers, “Yes, but it’s harmless really. More a reflection of the mutants’ genetics and some rare examples I studied.”

 

“Can I read it?”

 

“… Yes, sure,” he agrees, nodding.

 

Erik still looks at him for a while before he kneels in front of him.

 

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

 

“I beg your pardon?” Charles’ voice shivers.

 

“Raven’s child.”

 

Charles slowly shakes his head, like a reflex. He holds back a tear and has trouble answering, “A girl.”

 

“A little princess, how cute. What are you going to offer her when she comes?”

 

Charles pinches his lips hard and turns his head to look by the window, clearly trying to prevent himself when he says, “I was thinking of a bedcover, with her initials written on it. That way she could… keep it all her life, you know. A reminder her uncle always loved her, even before she was born.”

 

“What color?” Erik asks right away, to keep Charles’ mind busy with questions that,  _ yes _ , really do matter.

 

“I was thinking yellow, but…”

 

Erik gently strokes his cheek. “But… ?”

 

It takes a few minutes of silence before Charles finally turns his head to look at him. He grabs his hand in his to kiss his palm and confesses, “But then I saw the color of your eyes and I figured it has to be the same. A light grey, almost blue. It’s so full of hope, do you know that?”

 

Erik smiles and it feels so good on his face and heart he suddenly realizes it’s an addicting feeling he’s sure he won’t ever get tired of.

 

“Could I buy it with you?”

 

Charles smiles too, even if his is full of scars they both know it’s going to take a while to fully heal. But he’ll heal. They both know it.

 

He leans a bit forward and grabs Erik’s chin to pull him until their lips touch and he whispers:

  
“Yes.” 


End file.
